


Care

by Morgan (morgan32)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Slash, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-26
Updated: 2008-10-26
Packaged: 2017-10-02 02:24:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgan32/pseuds/Morgan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not every arrest goes smoothly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Care

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a gift for patty1h who asked for Jim and Blair tending each other's wounds after an arrest which went badly.

It was the rain that woke Jim. Icy rain battered his face, his hands and soaked into his clothing. He heard the roar of an engine and raised his head off the asphalt. He blinked a few times to focus his vision and saw the black van turn the corner and disappear from his sight.

Jim swore sincerely and tried to get up. His head swam.

"Jim, I've got you, man."

He felt Blair's hands on him, helping him up. He struggled to his feet with Blair's assistance and leaned heavily on his partner as Blair walked him, slowly, toward the truck.

Jim fumbled for his keys. "We've got to go after them."

"Are you nuts?" Blair demanded. He took the keys from Jim's hand and opened the passenger door. "Jim, you've got a concussion. You can't drive anywhere." He reached into the truck and pulled the first-aid box out from under the dash.

Jim saw the box and started to shake his head. The movement made him dizzy, so he stopped. "Sandburg, there isn't time." Rain was stinging his eyes.

"Jim, if you don't make time, the only place I'm taking you is the nearest ER." Blair's expression was bullish, determined. He stood there in the rain, his long hair dripping, looking up at Jim like the proverbial immovable object.

Jim sighed. Sandburg was right. "Okay," he surrendered.

"Sit down," Blair ordered.

Jim sat on the edge of the passenger seat, his feet on the ground outside the truck. He rested one hand on the dash for balance.

Blair tore open a pack of antiseptic wipes. He reached up and began to clean the blood away from Jim's forehead. Jim knew he'd hit his head hard, but the amount of his blood that ended up on the cloth in Blair's hand did surprise him. But he saw something else, too: blood on Blair's hand.

"This looks bad, Jim," Blair said unnecessarily. He started on a second wipe and Jim winced as the antiseptic stung the open wound. "Sorry," Blair muttered. "Do you have a headache?"

Jim managed a smile. "No, I just had King Kong bash my head against a rock. Nothing that's gonna make my head hurt."

"I'll take that as a yes. What about dizziness? Nausea?"

"I'm okay, Sandburg," Jim lied. The rain beating on the roof of the truck was bugging him. It was too loud, but he couldn't dial back his senses.

Blair shook his head, telling Jim without words that he knew Jim was full of shit. He shrugged. "Well, I don't think it needs stitches, man, but I'm not gonna let you drive." He covered the cut with a white gauze dressing and taped it down. "Okay, you're good."

Jim cupped Blair's cheek with one hand. "Thanks, Chief." He leaned forward and kissed him. "Now let me look at you. What happened to your hand?"

Blair looked down at his palm as if he hadn't noticed the injury. "It's nothing. There was some broken glass where that guy knocked me down." He raised the hand for Jim to look at the cuts.

Jim cradled Blair's hand in both of his. He had to blink a few times to get his vision focussed. There was one long cut across Blair's palm surrounded by numerous smaller abrasions. Jim examined the cuts closely but saw no cause for worry: no glass in the wounds. As they stood there, rain started the job of washing the blood away. Jim took one of Blair's antiseptic wipes and cleaned the cuts carefully. The largest one was still bleeding a little.

"You don't have to do that," Blair said.

"No, I don't _have_ to," Jim answered. He unwrapped a cotton bandage and started to wind it around Blair's hand, covering the wounds but keeping it loose enough that Blair wouldn't lose any mobility. "Are you okay to drive, Chief?"

Blair nodded. "I think so. No head injury, at least."

"Okay then." Jim tied off the bandage. "I'll call for backup. You drive."

"Jim, come on. You're good, man, but they've got to be too far away for your senses by now…"

"True. But I know where they're headed." Jim, moving slowly to avoid another wave of dizziness, slid the first aid box back under the dash and climbed into the passenger seat.

Blair climbed in behind the wheel. "Jim, did anyone ever tell you you're a bit obsessive?"

Jim grinned, fastening his seat belt. "I love you, too, Sandburg. Let's go."


End file.
